A June of Ordinary Murders (42 page)

‘Then a very brutal killer is going to remain at liberty,' he said curtly.

‘And what's happening about the other dreadful killing?' Lily asked. ‘What about the servant girl taken from the canal.'

Swallow did not want to explain that the case had been taken out of his hands.

‘I need information on her background. I'm planning a visit tomorrow to the orphanage where I believe she was reared. It's called Greenhills House. It's in Queen's County. So I'm going to take an early train down there to Maryborough and be back by evening.'

‘I'm going to go along with Joe,' Lafeyre said. ‘I thought you might like to come too, Lily. We could make it a day out in the country? Would we bring a picnic for the fine weather?'

Lily Grant looked far from pleased. ‘I thought we were going to take the train to Bray and have lunch there?'

‘Yes, I know. But the countryside would be pleasant too. And it's important that Joe gets to make his inquiries at Greenhills.'

‘To see the countryside would be nice,' she answered politely but without enthusiasm.

‘I know the area well. I grew up not too far away. And in high summer the furze will be magnificent,' Lafeyre said. ‘Maria, could you leave the business behind you for the day to come with us?'

Maria seemed no more enthusiastic than her sister, but she nodded acceptance. ‘Yes, I think I could do that. I can get Carrie to put together a picnic for us tomorrow morning.'

Swallow caught her doubtful look across the table. He knew that she was worried about him, especially since their conversations of the previous Sunday. A pleasant excursion into the countryside would be harmless, he told himself. It might help to relieve tensions. Apart from a brief visit to the orphanage it would be a day of leisure.

Lafeyre set out a plan. ‘I'll depart my house with Scollan at say, 8.30 in the morning to collect Lily at Alexandra College. Then we can pick up Joe and Maria at Thomas Street in time to catch the 10 o'clock train from Kingsbridge to Maryborough.'

There was beef in red wine after the fish course. Lafeyre ordered a Chateauneuf du Pape. Swallow enjoyed the rich Rhone wine and happily assisted Lafeyre in finishing a second bottle. After the meal, Lafeyre's driver, Scollan, took them to Thomas Street.

The bar was silent and dark an hour after closing time. The domestic servants and the barmen had departed or gone to their sleeping quarters. Swallow lit the gas mantle inside the front door.

There was a buff envelope with a crown, addressed to ‘Jos. Swallow Esq.' on the floor. Swallow recognised the handwriting as Pat Mossop's. Before he could open the envelope Maria put her hand on his arm.

‘I presume that's official business, Joe. You'll want to deal with it, so I'm just going to go straight away to bed. We have an early start in the morning if we're going on this … outing … to Queen's County.'

It was clear that she was no more pleased with the prospect than when it had been proposed in Jury's. Swallow did not want to engage in a conversation that had the potential to become unpleasant.

‘Fine, Maria. I'll need to see what's in this, then I'll be on my way upstairs as well.'

The night was humid. Swallow went into the parlour and threw up the sash window to create a current of air. He felt slow and full after the rich meal. He poured himself a brandy from the flask that always stood in the sideboard and opened Mossop's envelope.

He drew out two sheets of police-issue telegram paper. There was also a handwritten note from Mossop.

Sir,

We have two results.

Regarding the gentleman at Fitzpatrick's, Mr McDonald, the Army Paymaster's Office in London came back. Very prompt. There are 12 James McDaniels listed. Two were born between 1827 and 1837, fitting the age group of our man.

One of them is living in Glasgow on a pension.

The other deserted from the King's Own Borderers at York in 1868, aged 38 years at the rank of corporal. He is James Andrew McDaniel, d.o.b. April 17th 1829, in Lanarkshire. So if alive he is now aged 58 years and there is no trace since on the Army records.

This McDaniel was a single man. It seems he was in some serious trouble. The file says he is being sought by the Provost Marshal's Office. I thought it strange that they were still bothered about it now, after 20 years, so I looked into what he had done.

I checked with Dublin Crime Registry this evening. They receive and file all notifications from the Provost Marshal's Office. They came up with it fairly quickly. He is wanted in connection with the murder of a young officer in barracks in York.

It seems that McDaniel was batman to a lieutenant and killed him in the barracks. What the army refers to as an ‘unnatural relationship' had developed between them. There was a great stink about it at the time.

The full information from the Paymaster's office is set out in the enclosed sheets.

We also have a telegram from the City of Liverpool Police regarding a Louise Cecilia Thomas, known to reside at 37 Clarence Street, Liverpool.

She has two convictions for assaulting other women. In both cases she escaped imprisonment on payment of fines. Her late husband, Richard Thomas, was killed in an accident while working at Liverpool docks three years ago. He had convictions for assault and theft and served a number of terms of imprisonment.

She and her son, also Richard, aged about 8 or 9 years, have lodged at the above address for about 1 year. She has been employed for about 2 years as a kitchen assistant or assistant cook at one of the Liverpool Hospitals.

City of Liverpool police have no other knowledge. There is no knowledge of further family or relatives.

I thought you would want to have these details as soon as possible.

Yours respectfully,

Patrick Mossop (Detective Officer)

Not for the first time in his detective career, Swallow was grateful for the bureaucracy's insistence on record-keeping in the form of the Dublin Crime Registry, a vast repository of criminal data, housed in a granite-fronted store behind the Castle in Great Ship Street.

The likelihood had to be that McDonald, the butler at Fitzpatrick's, was in reality James McDaniel, wanted in connection with the 1868 murder at York.

He crossed the room to try for a fresher current of air by the window. As his glance fell into Thomas Street he saw a man half hidden in the shadows of a shop door. He crossed the street, and Swallow saw him try the locked door of the public house. Then he went down the side-alley that led to the private entrance.

Swallow put his brandy on the sideboard and sprinted down the corridor. He took the stairs two at a time and dropped quietly though the back window into the small yard. Then he drew the bolt and stepped out into the alley. The man was at the private door, huddled over, as if he were trying to insert something in the lock or peer through the letter-box.

Swallow bounded on him from behind, taking him to the ground. He heard the wind flying from the intruder's lungs. Then he was on him, taking the man's right arm in a sharp lock and twisting it high behind his back. He squealed in pain. With his other hand, Swallow grasped his hair, jerking his head back and around so he could see his face. It was Charlie Vanucchi.

‘Jesus, Mister Swalla', will you stop tryin' to break me arm? Let me go,' he hissed, ‘I'm only comin' with some information for you.'

Swallow lifted Vanucchi to his feet and pushed him to the wall. Still pushing his arm high behind his back, he ran his free hand along the sides of his coat and trousers. There was no weapon, no jemmy to break a door, no knife to slip a latch. He released Vanucchi's arm and stepped back.

‘For Christ's sake, Charlie, what're you doing slithering around the back door here at this hour of the night?'

Vanucchi rubbed his tender wrist where Swallow had grabbed him.

‘I came to give you a bit of information Mr Swalla'. I told you Charlie Vanucchi doesn't forget a good deed or the act of a friend. I couldn't come to the bloody Castle, could I? An' I could hardly walk up to you in broad daylight.'

He looked around him. ‘I suppose there's a chance you might ask me in and offer me a drink, Mr Swalla? I'm half in shock, you know, after you jumpin' me.'

Swallow led the way through the side door and up the stairs to the sitting-room. He gestured Vanucchi to a chair and reached for the brandy bottle. He poured a shot of the liquor for Vanucchi, who downed it in a single gulp.

‘Jesus, that's good stuff, Misther Swalla'. If I could afford that every night I'd be a happy man.' He held the tumbler out.

Swallow dispensed a less liberal tot than before. Vanucchi put the glass under his nose and inhaled deeply. ‘Ahhh … that's powerful.'

He squinted at Swallow over the glass. ‘Misther Swalla', I'm goin' to give you a bit of information that I think ye should have. It'll suit my purposes for ye to have it. And I'll wager that it'll do you some good if you act on it as you should.'

‘Go on,' Swallow said, tipping more brandy into his own glass.

‘Well, there's a couple of the younger fellas that did a few jobs for Ces Downes … but they'd be more on the Cussen side of the organisation than they'd be on my side, if you understand.'

‘In simple language, Charlie, they're Vinny Cussen's men, so you've no problem giving me a whisper about whatever they're at.' Swallow smiled cynically.

‘In a manner of speakin', Misther Swalla, that'd be correct. These young fellas are no help to me. To be honest, they're dangerous and I'd be glad to have them outta my way for a bit.'

‘So, what are they at that you think I'd be interested in?'

‘Some of these fellas aren't content to make a livin' out of the business. They want to think o' themselves as patriots, idealists, men who'll save Ireland. So they get involved with some of these politicals – the big men that'll drive the English out and give Ireland back to the Irish.'

‘So, who are these lads and what are they at?' Swallow asked. He inclined the brandy bottle towards Vanucchi's glass and poured again.

‘You'd hardly know them, Misther Swalla'. There's Pat O'Reilly. He's only a lad. About 18, I'd say, but a vicious one. Then there's Eddie Locke. He's a bit older and not too bright. A good man to get over a roof or across a high wall, he is. But he's easily led. The main man doin' the thinking there is O'Reilly.'

‘So, what are these young patriots planning?' Swallow asked.

‘I'm not 100 percent sure, Misther Swalla'. But I saw O'Reilly the other night with two big, black guns. Like them ones the sailors do have. He was puttin' bullets in one o' them and showin' Locke how the things work. Now, Misther Swalla, as you know very well, there's seldom much use for guns in what we do.'

He took a slug of the brandy. ‘So, the next day I meet young Locke when I'm walkin' along on Westland Row, and he tells me he's gettin' to take a train to Kingstown.

‘I says to him, “Eddie, what are you goin' to Kingstown for?” … because Eddie Locke wouldn't have any business in Kingstown. He was probably never out o' Dublin in his life. And he says to me, “Oh, we're goin' out to have a look around where the royal prince will be comin' in for a visit.” So I says to him, “who's ‘we', Eddie?” And he says to me, “Ah, just a few o' the boys I know in the Brothers.”

‘Then who comes along to meet the two lads at the Westland Row railway station?' He glanced around as if to be sure there was nobody else in the parlour. ‘A fella by the name of O'Donnell. He's introduced to me as
Mister
James O'Donnell. And the boys tell me that he's their big contact in the Brothers. He's the main man organisin' whatever mischief they're plannin'. Now, that's good information for ye.'

He drained his glass. ‘Misther Swalla', I'm not a man who cares a shit about princes or queens. But I'm puttin' two and two together and I think these fellas are plannin' to do a lot a' damage when that prince comes in to Kingstown next week. They haven't got them two guns for nothin', I'm damned sure.'

Swallow felt a surge of elation at the mention of James O'Donnell's name. He divided the last of the brandy between Vanucchi's glass and his own.

‘Yer grinnin' away there, Misther Swalla. Is there a joke that I'm not gettin'?'

‘Not really, Charlie. I'm just thinking of the old saying “
the Lord moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform.
”'

He raised an admonishing finger to Vanucchi.

‘What you do now, Charlie, is you tell nobody else about this, do you understand? Don't ask any more questions of either O'Reilly or Locke in case they get suspicious. If you come across the guns, leave them where they are. We'll let this pot boil away for a bit.'

He raised his glass. ‘Here's to your health, Charlie. Now, we'll see if we can get you out of here as discreetly as you got in.'

He led Vanucchi to the side door and opened it, allowing a current of warm night air to flow in. Vanucchi slipped into the alleyway and silently vanished.

Swallow climbed the stairs to the bedroom where Maria had drifted into sleep. He arranged his clothes and checked his revolver, laying it carefully, with 12 spare rounds of ammunition, by the bedside for the morning's journey.

He slept. He dreamed that he saw a leering James O'Donnell with his sister, Harriet, somewhere among a crowd of people. He called to warn her that she was in danger, but she was happy and laughing. He called more loudly. In his dream, she could not hear him.

Saturday June 25th, 1887